Vinayak was walking ahead of the busy road. People continued with their hectic regularities around. No one cared about what happened around. So was Vinayak. He was busy cooling his head with his favorite Bollywood hits in the iPod. Being a six feet tall man, Vinayak was a neatly built man with his routine evening gym hours. Any girl in the city would admire his cleanly shaved face which had -no doubt- a total genuine look. That day though, he was completely fed up with his busy day in office, and no girl would be of interest to him. His face had formed a thick layer of a mixture of sweat and oil, and sweat was running down his whiskers. When he reached the door of his regular coffee shop, a sudden chilled breeze swept his face which made him feel like having a cup of cold coffee.
The Café was one of the best in town, and always offered beverages at economy. The dimly lit interiors provided the best aesthetics for young couple- married or unmarried- to spend their time together unnoticed. Vinayak always preferred the table at the corner near the wash. It gave him clear vision to the Café’s LCD television which always showed MTV. He pushed his ass on to the puffy cushion in ease and waited for the bearer boy. It was suddenly when he felt like someone closely watching him. Often, he looked around and retracted, unable to find similar faces. He was feeling a sudden chill run through his spine, gifting him with an unknown fear. He didn’t even notice the bearer repeatedly asking him for his order. Impatiently, the bearer boy patted his shoulder. Vinayak suddenly came back to the real world and heard the bearer repeating impatiently.
“What are you having, Sir?”
“A peppermint frappe,” He ordered.
“Anything to eat, Sir?” the bearer repeated.
“Nope. Just the frappe will do.”

      It was then, missed by his primary eye, he saw the one looking constantly at him. He slowly rose from his seat and approached the follower, with a naughty little smile.


 She was with Ajay. Ajay had persuaded her to join him in his dad’s private guest house at Cochin. At first, she didn’t agree. Actually, she was a bit of tensed. Ajay called again, and again, and again. She kept on refusing.
‘It’s not the first time I am calling you out. Then why, Pari?’ Ajay pleaded.

‘It’s not that, Ajay. You know what. Papa will not let me out in late hours. And he’ll have to know where and why I’m out. And I can’t hold a cooked-up story before him for long. You know Ajay, you know well enough. How could I? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Ajay’.
Then it was a short silence. Parinita felt her heart break into thousand red drops. She could feel a face out somewhere, gloomy and unhappy. She could feel someone, who dreamed of one night with his love out, and who misfortunately failed. She couldn’t bear long.
‘Okay, Ajay. This is the first and last time. Don’t ask me again.’
            And there they sat, on the open terrace of the guest house. The terrace was completely floored with small tiles of terracotta. Spot lights gleaming from the ceiling highlighted the brilliant shades of the floor tiles. The guest house was at a hilltop in the outskirts of the city. A clear view of Fort Kochi was available from the balcony they sat. City lights were at the best of their charm at that time of the dusk. And the view of it with someone who is your second heart was too much romantic.
            Ajay shifted his chair to behind Pari and wrapped her by the bosom. The unexpected wrap from behind shook her at first. But slowly, she started enjoying the moment. She had a well shaped bosom, which was well enough to charge a real man by mere sight. Ajay moved his fingers as though two legs were walking on her bosom. Reaching the navel, the fingers suddenly acquired a naughty rush, and the scene began to change. Pari was uncertain at the happening. She didn’t know if to enjoy the scene or to stop him. But something unknown held her back and spelled in her ears. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Don’t you worry!’
            Apart from Ajay’s eyes, distant on the terrace of a three storied building, stood an SLR camera on a tripod,  with a highly zoomed lens, closely absorbing each and every part of the play. The forefinger of a strange hand silently tapped on a jean wore knee. Slowly, a crooked smile spread on a shadowed face and the forefinger stopped its tapping and pressed the end button on the cam.

            The next day, when she woke up, Pari frightfully held the bed sheet which wrapped her body. She turned around to see Ajay sleeping at ease. The sari she wore lay on the floor near the bed along with her blouse. She wrapped up the stuff and moved towards the bathroom. Again, she turned around to look at Ajay. She felt something stick to her throat unable to digest. She had been in bed with a man never before. What have a man to lose? It’s always the woman’s fate to suffer. Always! She stood silently in front of the mirror and watched her naked self. Has something changed? The strange voice from inside spelled again, ‘Nothing has changed my dear. Nothing!’


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